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THE    PEOPLE'S    LIBRAR! 
OF  INTERNATIONAL  DRAMAS 


By     ANTON     TCHEKHOV 
TRANSLATED     BY 

IRo^  temple  ibouee 


MOODS      PUBLISHING       CO. 

NEW    YORK         ....         NINETEEN    NINE 


T 


THE    PEOPLE'S    UUm 
OE   INIEyATIONAL  DRAMAS 


JBj;    ANTON     TCHEKHOV 
TRANSLATED     BY 

IRo^  ITemple  ibouse 


MOODS      PUBLISHING      GG. 

NEW    YORK         ....         NINETEEN    NINE 


Copyright 

nineteen-nine 

BY  Moods  Publishing  Company 

All  rights  both  of  reprint  and  production  reierved. 


3  ^^<^/^  7lo^c 


A    BEAR 


572719 


A    BEAR 
{From  the  Russian  of  Anton  Tchekhov) 

CHARACTERS 

Helene-Ivanovna  Popova,  a  young  widow  with 
dimpled  cheeks,  landed  proprietor. 

Grigori-Stepanovitch  Smirnov,  retired  artillery  offi- 
cer, landowner,  in  the  prime  of  life. 

LouKA,  servant  of  Madame  Popova,  an  old  man  of 
sixty. 

SCENE  I. 

Mme.  Popova,  in  deep  mourning,  buried  in  the  con- 
templation of  a  photograph  which  she  holds  in  her  hand, 
and  LouKA. 

LouKA.  This  isn't  right,  Madame;  you 
will  kill  yourself.  The  chambermaid  and 
the  coolc  have  gone  to  the  woods  to  pick 
strawberries,  everything  alive  is  enjoying  lite, 
even  the  cat  is  rolling  around  in  the  court 
and  running  after  the  birds ;  you  alone  stay 
shut  up  in  your  room  all  day,  as  if  you  were 
in  a  convent.  .  .  You  haven't  been  away  from 
the  house  for  more  than  a  year. 

Mme.  Popova.  And  I  shall  never  go 
away  !  Why  should  I  ?  My  Hfe  is  over. 
It  went  down  into  the  tomb,  and  I  shall  re- 
main buried  within  these  four   walls.     We 

5 


6  A  BEAR 

are  dead,  both  of  us  ! 

LouKA.  How  can  you  talk  so,  Madame? 
It  hurts  me  to  hear  you.  N i colas- Mi khai- 
lovitch  is  dead.  May  the  will  of  God  be 
done,  and  may  he  sleep  in  peace  !  You  have 
cried  so  much  !  Everything  must  have  an 
end.  You  can't  cry  and  wear  mourning  all 
your  lite.  I  lost  my  old  wife,  a  long  time 
ago.  Well,  what  of  it?  I  was  grieved,  I 
wept  for  a  whole  month.  That  was  enough 
for  her ;  if  I  wept  for  her  all  my  life,  that 
would  be  more  than  she  deserved.  [He 
sighs.)  You  neglect  all  your  neighbors. 
You  never  go  anywhere,  or  receive  any- 
body. We  live  like  spiders,  if  you  will 
allow  me  to  say  so.  The  mice  have  eaten 
my  livery  up.  It  might  be  more  reasonable 
if  we  had  no  neighbors,  but  we  have.  At 
Ribvolo  there  is  a  regiment  in  garrison,  and 
the  officers  are  beautiful  fellows.  I  never 
get  tired  of  admiring  them.  There's  a  ball 
every  Friday,  and  I  think  they  have  band- 
music  on  the  promenade  every  day.  Ah ! 
Madame,  Madame,  you  are  young  and 
pretty  ;  blood  and  milk.  All  you  have  to 
do  is  to  let  yourself  live  !     You  won't  have 


ANTON  TCHEKHOV  7 

your  beauty  forever  !  In  ten  years  you  can 
put  on  all  the  airs  you  please  before  the 
officers,  and  try  to  dazzle  them  ;  it  will  be  a 
little  too  late. 

Mme.  Popova  [firmly).  I  beg  you  not 
to  talk  to  me  like  that  any  more.  You  know 
that  since  I  lost  my  dear  husband,  life  has 
no  more  charm  for  me.  You  think  I  am 
alive,  but  you  are  mistaken.  1  have  sworn 
never  to  take  off  my  mourning  till  I  die, 
and  never  to  receive  a  visitor  again.  You 
understand  what  I  say  ?  I  want  his  spirit 
to  see  how  I  love  him.  Yes,  I  know  that 
you  know  how  unjust  he  often  was  to  me, 
cruel  and  even  false.  But  I  shall  be  faithful 
to  him  till  death,  and  I  shall  prove  to  him 
how  much  I  can  love.  And  when  we  meet 
in  the  next  world,  he  shall  find  me  just  as 
he  left  me  when  he  died. 

LouKA.  Instead  of  brooding  over  things 
like  that,  Madame,  you  had  better  go  and 
take  a  walk  in  the  garden.  Or  order  me  to 
saddle  Tobie,  and  go  visit  your  neighbors. 

Mme.  PopovA.  He  loved  Tobie  so  !  He 
was  his  favorite  horse.  What  a  fine  rider  he 
was !      How  beautiful  ne  looked    when    he 


8  A  BEAR 

held  the  bridle  and  made  the  horse  gallop  ! 
Tobie  !  Tobie  !  Have  him  given  a  double 
ration  of  oats  today. 

LouKA.  Very  well,  Madame.  (The  bell 
rings  violently.) 

Mme.  Popova  {startled).  Who  can  that 
be  ?  Who  can  be  coming  here  ?  Tell  him  I 
don't  see  anybody. 

LouKA.     You  shall  be  obeyed,  Madame. 

{He  goes  out.") 

SCENE  II. 
Mme.  Popova  alone.  She  studies  the  photograph  again. 

Mme.   Popova.    You  shall  see,  Nicolas, 

how  I  can  love  and  pardon.      My  love  shall 

not  end    till  my   life    does,     till    this    poor 

heart  stops  beating.     {She  smiles  through  her 

tears.)     And  aren't  you  ashamed  ?     I   am  a 

faithful  wife,  I  have  locked  myself  in,  and  I 

shall  be  faithful  to  the  tomb,  and  you,  aren't 

you  ashamed,  old  dear?    You  were  false  to 

me  more  than  once,  you  quarreled  with  me, 

you  left  me  alone  for  weeks  at  a  time. 

SCENE  III. 
Mme.    Popova,  Louka. 

LouKA.      {enters^    with    an    anxious    air). 

Madame  !     A  gentleman  wishes  to  see  you. 

He  is  determined  to  talk  with  you. 


ANTON  TCHEKHOV  9 

Mme.  Popova.  I  supposed  you  knew 
enough  to  tell  the  gentleman  that  since  my 
husband's  death  I  receive  no  visitors. 

LouKA.  I  said  so,  madame,  I  repeated 
it;  but  he  won't  listen  to  me.  He  says  he 
must  speak  to  you  about  a  matter  of  great 
importance. 

Mme.  PopovA.  I  won't  see  him  !  I  won't 
see  him  ! 

LouKA.  I  got  myself  out  of  breath  tell- 
ing him  so,  Madame.  But  he's  a  Devil 
broke  loose  from  Hades.  He  insulted  me, 
and  he  walked  right  in.  He's  in  the  dining- 
room  now. 

Mme.  Popova  [irritated.')  Well,  send  him 
in.    What  insolence  !    [Louka  goes  out.) 

Mme.  Popova.  What  unbearable  creatures 
men  arc!  What  do  they  want  of  me  ?  Why 
do  they  come  to  trouble  my  repose?  (^She 
sighs.)  I  see  I  must  take  refuge  in  a  convent. 
(^Pensively)  Yes,  in  a  convent,  in  a  convent. 

SCENE  IV. 
Mme.  Popova,  Louka,  Smirnov. 

Smirnov  [as  he  enters^  to  Louka.)  Don't 
talk  so  much,  you  fool,  you  long-eared 
donkey !     (^Perceiving  Mme.    Popova^    with 


10  A  BEAR 

dignity^  Madame,  I  have  the  honor  of 
presenting  myself:  Grigori-Stepanovitch 
Smirnov,  retired  artillery  officer,  landed 
proprietor.  I  am  forced  to  come  and  trouble 
you  about  a  very  important  matter. 

Mme.  Popova.    What  is  the  matter? 

Smirnov.  Your  deceased  husband,  whom 
I  had  the  honor  of  knowing,  still  owes  me 
twelve  hundred  roubles  Here  are  the  bills. 
As  I  must  pay  the  interest  on  my  mortgage 
at  the  bank  tomorrow,  T  must  ask  you  to 
settle  this  debt  today. 

Mme.  Popova.  Twelve  hundred  roubles  ! 
How  does  my  husband  happen  to  owe  you 
so  much  ? 

Smirnov.     He  bought  oats  of  me. 

Mme.  Popova  {sighing.)  You  won't  for- 
get, Louka,  to  see  that  Tobie  is  given  a 
double  feed  of  oats.  (^Louka  goes  out.)  If  my 
husband  owes  you  anything,  I  will  certainly 
pay  yoij;  but  I  beg  you  to  excuse  me,  I 
have  no  money  at  hand  today.  My  mana- 
ger will  come  back  from  the  city  the  day 
after  tomorrow,  and  I  will  order  him  to  pay 
you  what  we  owe  you.  In  the  meantime  I 
cannot  do  what  you  ask.      Besides,  it  is  just 


ANTON  TCHBKHOV  11 

seven  months  ago  today  that  I  lost  my  hus- 
band, and  I  am  not  in  a  state  of  mind  to 
consider  money  matters. 

Smirnov.  Well,  I'm  in  such  a  state  of 
mind  that  if  I  don't  pay  the  interest  on  my 
mortgage  at  the  bank  tomorrow,  I'm  ruined, 
They  will  take  my  property — 

Mme.  Popova.  You  shall  receive  what  is 
due  the  day  after  tomorrow. 

Smirnov.  It  isn't  the  day  after  tomorrow, 
but  today  that  I  need  the  money. 

Mme.  Popova.  I  am  very  sorry,  but  it 
is  impossible  for  me  to  pay  you  today. 

Smirnov.  And  I  tell  you  I  can't  wait 
till  day  after  tomorrow. 

Mme.  Popova.  But  what  do  you  expect 
me  to  do  ?     I  have  no  money  here  today. 

SmIrnov.    Then  you  can't  pay. 

Mme.  Popova.      I  cannot. 

Smirnov.  Hum,  hum !  That  is  your 
last  word  ?       '    ''  '        , 

Mme.  Popova.     Yes,, my  last  word. 

Smirnov.  Your  last  word  ?  You  couldn't 
possibly  change  your  mind  ? 

Mme.  Popova.     It  is  my  last  word. 

Smirnov.     Thanks.     Thank    you     very 


ii  A  BEAR 

much!  I'm  satisfied!  {He  shrugs  his  shoulders) 
And  they  expect  mc  to  keep  my  temper  ! 
I  started  from  home  before  sunrise,  I  made 
the  rounds  of  all  my  debtors,  and  not  one, 
not  a  single  one,  had  any  money  to  spare  1 
I  ran,  like  a  dog,  I  wore  myself  out ;  I  passed 
the  night  the  Lord  knows  where,  in  a  Jew 
hotel  up  against  a  cask  of  brandy.  .Well,  at 
last  I  came  to  your  place,  forty  miles  from 
home,  I  come  for  money,  and  in  place  of 
money  you  offer  me  your  "state  of  mind." 
Do  you  think  I  can  stand  that  ? 

Mme.  Popova.  I  told  you,  I  think,  very 
clearly,  that  you  shall  be  paid  when  my 
manager  comes  back. 

Smirnov.  I  didn't  come  to  talk  to  your 
manager,  I  came  to  talk  to  you,  Madame. 
Why  the  Devil  (I  beg  your  pardon)  do  you 
keep  dinning  your  manager  into  my  ears .'' 

Mme.  Popova.  I  am  not  used  either  to 
these  strange  expressions  or  to  this  tone. 
I'll  not  listen  to  you  a  minute  longer  {She 
goes  out  angrily.) 

SCENE  V. 
Smirnov,   alone. 

Smirnov.    What  do  you   think  of  that  ? 


ANTON  TCHEKHOV  13 

Madame's  state  of  mind  !  She  lost  her  hus- 
band just  seven  months  ago !  But  how 
about  me  ?  Must  I  pay  the  interest  on  my 
mortgage,  or  must  I  not  ?  Is  that  some- 
thing I  can  do  as  I  please  about  ?  Your 
husband  is  dead,  yes — states  of  mind  and 
all  the  rest  of  it.  The  manager  has  skipped 
out !  Devil  take  it  all,  how  does  that  help 
me  ?  Shall  I  run  off  and  leave  my  creditors  ? 
How?  In  a  balloon,  I  suppose!  I  go  to 
see  one  debtor ;  he  is  not  at  home ;  the 
second  hides,  the  third  has  cholerine  and 
Madame  has  a  state  of  mind!  Not  one  of 
the  rascals  wants  to  pay.  That's  because 
I've  coddled  them  too  much.  I'm  a  milk- 
sop— I  treat  them  too  well!  Well,  just  wait, 
you'll  learn  me  better!  I  won't  stand  it  to 
be  made  a  fool  of,  I  tell  you!  I'll  stay  right 
here,  and  I'll  not  leave  till  she  pays  me! 
Oh,  I'm  crazy;  I'm  so  angry  I  can't  see 
straight!  My  legs  are  shaking,  and  1  can't 
breathe.  My  Lord!  I'm  sick.  {^He  cries). 
Hello!  somebody! 

SCENE  VI. 
Smirnov,  Louka. 

LouKA  (entering).     What  do  you  want? 


14  A  BEAR 

Smirnov.  a  glass  of  kvass  or  water, 
(^Exit  Loukd). 

Smirnov.  What  logic!  She  meets  a 
man  who  is  ruined,  it  he  can't  get  his 
money  this  very  day,  and  she  refuses  to  pay 
because  her  "state  ot  mind"  won't  permit 
her  to  think  ot  business  today!  That's  fe- 
male logic  for  you!  The  only  logic  they 
know  anything  about  is  fashion!  That  is 
why  I  never  liked  to  talk  to  women  and 
never  will.  I'd  rather  walk  over  a  powder- 
magazine  than  get  into  a  discussion  with 
these  beautiful  creatures.  When  I  see  one 
of  the  poetical  beings  looming  up  in  the  dis- 
tance, my  legs  tremble  with  anger!  B-r-r-r! 
The  minx  has  put  me  into  such  a  rage  that 
I'm  teverish! 

SCENE   VII. 

Smirnov,  Louka. 

(Louka  enters  with  a  glass  of  water). 

LouKA.  Madame  is  ill  and  is  not  receiv- 
ing visitors. 

Smirnov.  Go  to  the  Devil!   {Exti Louka.) 
Smirnov.     "Madame  is  ill  and  is  not  re- 
ceiving visitors!"     You  needn't  receive  any, 
dear   Madame.     We'll  arrange  things.     I'll 


ANTON  TCHEKHOV  15 

just  Stay  here  glued  to  this  chair  till  I've  got 
my  money.  You  can  be  ill  for  a  week,  then 
I'll  stay  here  seven  days,  If  you're  ill  a  year, 
I'll  stay  here  twelve  months.  I'm  going  to 
win  this  game,  dear  Madame.  You  can't 
disarm  me  with  veils  and  mourning,  nor  with 
the  dimples  in  your  cheeks.  I've  met  dim- 
ples hke  that  before.  {^He  calls  out  of  the 
window).  Simon,  unhitch  the  horses!  We're 
not  going  to  leave  here  in  a  hurry!  I'm  to 
stay  awhile.  Tell  them  at  the  stable  to  give 
your  horses  some  oats.  {^He  leaves  the  win- 
dow). Oh,  how  hot  it  is!  Nobody  wants 
to  pay  his  debts  After  the  night  I  passed, 
they  offer  me  crepe  veils  and  "states  of 
mind"  to  appease  me  Oh,  how  my  head 
aches!  1  think  I  must  have  a  little  glass  of 
brandy.  Yes,  yes,  that's  what  I  need.  {He 
calls).      Hello,  somebody! 

LouKA  [enters).     What  do  you  want? 

Smirnov.  Bring  me  a  glass  of  cognac. 
{^Exit  Louka). 

Smirnov.  Out!  [He  sits  down  and  ex- 
amines his  clothing.)  I'm  a  sweet-looking 
object,  there's  no  use  talking!  I'm  covered 
with  dust,  my  boots  muddy,  unwashed,  my 


16  A  BEAR 

hair  unbrushed,  straw  on  my  vest.  That 
little  lady  must  have  takea  me  for  a  brigand. 
{He yawns).  It  isn't  exactly  correct  to  come 
into  a  drawing-room  like  this!  But  I'm  not 
a  visitor,  I'm  a  creditor,  and  there  aren't  any 
rules  of  etiquette  for  creditors. 

LouKA  {brings  a  glass  of  cognac).  You're 
making  yourself  too  much  at  home,  sir! 

Smirnov  {angrily).     What  did  you  say? 

LouKA.     I?     Nothing.     I —  \ 

Smirnov.     Do  you  know  whom  you're' 
talking  to?     Not  a  word  more! 

LouKA  {aside).  He's  an  imp  of  the 
Devil!     {Exit). 

Smirnov.  It  makes  me  furious!  I  feel 
as  if  I  could  grind  the  whole  universe  to 
powder!  It  makes  me  sick.  [He  calls). 
Hello!  somebody! 

SCENE  VIII. 
Mme.  Popova,   Smirnov. 

{Enter  Mme.  Popova^  her  eyes  on  the  floor). 

Mme.  Popova.  Sir,  permit  me  to  tell 
you  that  since  I  have  been  alone  I  have 
grown  entirely  unused  to  men's  big,  coarse 
voices,  and   I   can't  stand  shouting.     I   beg 


ANTON  TCHEKHOV  17 

you  most  earnestly  to  respect  my  repose. 

Smirnov.  Pay  me  your  husband's  debt 
and  I'll  go. 

Mme.  Popova.  I  have  told  you  flatly 
that  I  have  no  money  in  reach,  and  I  beg 
you  to  be  patient  till  the  day  after  tomorrow. 

Smirnov.  I  have  also  had  the  honor  of 
answering  you  no  less  flatly  that  I  need  this 
money,  not  for  tomorrow,  but  for  this  very 
day!  You  can't  pay  me  the  sum  that  is  due 
me?  {^He  sits  down).  Very  well,  1  shall  stay 
here  till  day  after  tomorrow — like  this — 
glued  to  this  chair.  (//«?  grows  excited). 
Just  tell  me,  must  I  pay  the  interest  on  my 
mortgage,  or  must  I  not?  You  seem  to 
think  I'm  joking! 

Mme.  Popova.  Sir,  I  beg  you  not  to 
raise  your  voice  so.    We  aren't  in  the  stable. 

Smirnov.  I  didn't  say  anything  about  a 
stable;  I  asked  you  whether  or  not  I  must 
pay  the  interest  on  my  mortgage  tomorrow. 

Mme.  Popova.  You  do  not  act  as  a 
gentleman  should  in  the  presence  of  a  lady. 

Smirnov.  T  beg  your  pardon,  I  know  all 
about  how  to  act  in  the  presence  of  ladies. 

Mme.    Popova.      No    vou    don't!      You 


18  A  BEAR 

have  no  breeding,  you  are  impolite  and  vul- 
gar! Well-bred  men  don't  talk  to  ladies  in 
that  tone. 

Smirnov.  Well,  now,  that's  charming! 
In  what  tone  should  I  talk  to  you?  {Very 
angry  ^  but  with  affected  politeness).  Madame, 
pardon  me.  How  delighted  I  am  that  you 
will  not  pay  me  what  you  owe  me!  I  beg 
your  pardon  a  thousand  times  for  having 
come  and  disturbed  you!  It  was  such  fine 
weather  today!  And  you  look  so  well  in 
mourning!      [He  bows  profoundly). 

Mme.  Popova.  That  isn't  funny — it's 
just  coarse. 

Smirnov  [imitating  her).  That  isn't 
funny — it's  just  coarse!  I  don't  know  how 
to  act  in  the  company  of  ladies!  I've  known 
more  women  in  my  life  than  you  ever  saw 
spa  rows!  I've  had  three  duels  over  women; 
I've  abandoned  twelve  women,  and  nine 
have  abandoned  me!  Yes,  Madame,  cer- 
tainly! I've  made  a  fool  of  myself  like  ail 
the  rest,  I've  talked  imbecility,  I've  put  on 
airs,  I've  bowed  and  scraped.  I  have  loved, 
I  have  suffered,  I  have  sighed  in  the  moon- 
light, I  have  pined  and  languished!      I  have 


ANTON  TCHEKHOV  19 

loved  passionately,  I  have  loved  turiously! 
I  have  loved  so  often  that  love  has  no 
more  secrets  for  me.  I've  preached  in  sea- 
son and  out  of  season  for  female  emancipa- 
tion; I've  lost  half  of  my  fortune  in  affairs 
of  the  heart.  But  I've  had  enough  of  it. 
It's  all  over!  Black  eyes,  fiery  glances,  red 
lips,  dimpled  cheeks,  moonlight,  rustling  of 
leaves,  tender  sighs.  I  wouldn't  give  a  cent 
for  all  ot  that  any  more,  Madame!  I  am 
not  speaking  of  present  company;  but  all 
women,  from  the  first  to  the  last,  are  grim- 
acing, affected,  foolish,  lying,  vain,  mean 
little  souls,  heartless,  illogical,  and  as  for 
this  [he  strikes  his  forehead)  you  will  excuse 
my  frankness,  but  a  sparrow  could  show 
more  gray  matter  than  ten  philosophers  in 
skirts!  Take  the  most  poetical,  the  most 
ethereal,  the  most  perfect  of  them  all,  and 
look  at  her.  She's  a  goddess  in  satin!  You 
fall  into  ecstacy!  You  reach  her  soul,  and 
she's  a  crocodile!  {He  seizes  a  chair  by  the 
back  and  breaks  it  in  two).  But  th=--  most 
disgusting  thing  is  that  this  croco  lie  im- 
agines itself  the  masterpiece  of  creaiion,  and 
considers  love  its  monopoly,  its    privilege 


20  A  BKAR 

A  thousand  devils!  Hang  me  head  down!  Can 
a  woman  ever  love  anything  but  her  little 
dog?  In  love  a  woman  can  do  nothing  but 
weep  and  moan — while  the  man  suffers  and 
sacrifices.  The  woman  can  do  nothing  but 
play  with  the  end  of  her  fan  and  lead  a  man 
around  by  the  end  of  the  nose!  You  arc  so 
unfortunate,  Madame,  as  to  be  a  woman;  so 
that  you  know  better  than  I  do  what  the 
creatures  are  worth.  Well,  tell  me  now, 
frankly,  on  your  soul  and  conscience,  did 
you  ever  know  a  woman  to  be  faithful  and 
devoted?  You  never  did,  did  you?  There 
are  no  faithful  and  devoted  women,  but  old 
ones  and  ugly  ones!  It  is  easier  to  find  a 
cat  with  horns  or  a  white  blackbird  than  a 
true  woman. 

Mme.  Popova.  Well,  who  do  you  think 
is  faithful  in  love,  then?     The  men? 

Smirnov.     Yes,  the  men. 

Mme.  Popova.  The  men!  {with  a  wicked 
laugh).  The  men  are  faithful  and  constant 
in  love!  Thank  you  for  the  discovery.  I 
should  never  have  suspected  it.  [Excitedly) 
But  what  right  have  you  to  say  that?  Men 
faithful  and  constant!     Since  that  is  the  case, 


ANTON  TCHEKHOV  21 

I  will  tell  you  that  of  all  the  men  I  ever 
knew,  the  best  was  my  dead  husband — I 
loved  him  passionately,  with  all  my  soul,  as 
only  a  young,  intelligent  woman  can  love. 
I  gave  him  my  youth,  my  happiness,  my 
life,  my  fortune.  I  lived  for  him  alone,  1 
idolized  him.  Very  well!  this  best  of  all 
men  deceived  me  in  the  most  shametul 
fashion,  and  atter  his  death  1  found  a  drawer 
in  his  desk  crammed  tull  of  letters  trom 
women.  And  while  he  was  alive — oh,  how 
hard  it  is  to  remember! — he  left  me  all  alone 
tor  weeks  at  a  time,  he  paid  court  to  other 
women  right  before  me,  he  deceived  me,  he 
squandered  my  money,  he  insulted  my  love! 
And  in  spite  of  all  that,  I  loved  him  and  re- 
mained faithful  to  him  ...  He's  dead,  and 
I  am  still  faithful  to  him.  I  have  buried 
myself  in  these  four  walls  for  the  rest  of  my 
life,  and  I  shall  never  leave  off  my 
mourning. 

Smirnov  {with  a  mocking  laugh).  Mourn- 
ing! What  do  you  take  me  for?  Do  you 
think  1  don't  know  why  you  wear  that  black 
domino  and  why  you  have  buried  yourself 
within  these  four  walls?     It  is  so  poetical,  so 


22  A  BEAR 

mysterious!  A  young  officer  or  a  long- 
haired poet  will  pass  in  front  of  the  house, 
will  look  up  at  your  window  and  say:  "Here 
dwells  the  mysterious  lady  who,  for  love  of 
her  husband,  has  buried  herself  alive  within 
these  four  walls."  We  all  know  these 
tricks! 

Mme.  Popova  (^offended).  What  do  you 
mean?  How  do  you  dare  to  talk  to  me  like 
that? 

Smirnov.  You've  buried  yourself  alive, 
that  is  true.  But  you  haven't  forgotten  to 
put  on  your  rice-powder! 

Mme.  Popova.  How  do  you  dare  to 
speak  to  me  like  this? 

Smirnov.  Don't  get  angry,  I  beg  you. 
I  am  not  your  manager.  I  like  to  call  things 
by  their  right  names.  I  am  not  a  woman, 
and  I  am  in  the  habit  of  saying  frankly  what 
I  think.      I  beg  you  not  to  make  a  scene — 

Mme.  Popova.  It  isn't  I  that  am  making 
a  scene,  it's  you.  Be  so  kind  as  to  leave  me 
in  peace. 

Smirnov.  Pay  me  what  you  owe  me  and 
I  will  go  at  once. 

Mme.  Popova.     I  shall  not  pay  you. 


ANTON  TCHEKHOV  23 

Smirnov.     I  beg  your  pardon;  you  shall. 

Mme.  Popova.  No  sir!  To  punish  you, 
you  shall  not  receive  a  cent!  You  might  as 
well  go  and  leave  me. 

Smirnov.  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of 
being  your  husband  or  your  intended,  and 
you  needn't  bother  to  play  a  part  for  me. 
(//(?  sits  down).     I  have  no  love  for  scenes. 

Mme.  Popova  {suffocated  with  anger). 
You're  sitting  down! 

Smirnov.  I'm  making  myself  comfort- 
able. 

Mme.  Popova.      I  beg  you  to  go  away. 

Smirnov.  Pay  me  what  you  owe  me. 
[Aside)  Oh,  how  angry  I'm  getting! 

Mme.  Popova.  I  will  have  nothing  to 
do  with  insulting  brutes  like  you.  I  beg 
you  to  withdraw.    (^A  pause).    You  won't  go? 

Smirnov.     No! 

Mme    Popova.     You  won't? 

Smirnov.     No! 

Mme.  Popova.      Very   well.     [She  rings). 
SCENE  IX. 
[Enter  Louka) 

Mme.  Popova.  Louka!  show  this  person 
the  door. 


24  A  BEAR 

LouKA  [approaching  Smirnov).  Sir,  please 
go  away,  since  Madame  wishes  it.  Sir, 
sir — 

Smirnov  (^jumping  to  his  feet).  Shut  up! 
Who  are  you  talking  to?  I'll  knock  you 
flatter  than  a  pancake! 

LouKA  {terrified,  puts  his  hand  on  his  heart) 
May  ail  the  saints  in  Heaven  come  and  help 
me!  [He  falls  into  a  chair).  I'm  sick,  I'm 
choking. 

Mme.  Popova.  Where  is  Dacha?  Dacha! 
[She  calls).     Tania!    Dacha!     {She  rings). 

LouKA.  Oh!  oh!  they  are  all  in  the  woods 
picking  strawberries!  There  is  nobody  in 
the  house!      I'm  sick!      Get  me  some  water! 

Mme.  Popova.  Will  you  do  me  the 
favor  to  go  away,  sir? 

Smirnov.  I  beg  you,  Madame,  to  be 
more  polite  to  me. 

Mme.  Popova  {clenches  her  fists  and 
stamps).  You're  a  rustic,  a  dirty  bear,  a 
monster! 

Smirnov.     What's  that? 

Mme.  Popova.  I  said  you're  a  bear  and 
a  monster! 

Snirnov   {stepping    toward  her).     What 


ANTON  TCHEKHOV  25 

right  have  you  to  insult  me,  Madame? 

Mme.  Popova.  Yes,  I'll  insult  you!  You 
don't  imagine  I'm  afraid  of  you? 

Smirnov.  And  you  seem  to  imagine  that 
as  you  belong  to  the  poetical  sex  vou  have 
the  right  to  insult  me  with  impunity.  Well, 
you  haven't.  I  challenge  you  and  you  will 
have  to  fight! 

LouKA.  May  all  the  saints  of  Heaven 
help  us!     Give  me  a  glass  of  water! 

Smirnov.     We  are  going  to  fight! 

Mme.  Popova  Because  you  have  fists 
like  a  peasant  and  lungs  like  an  ox,  you 
think  I'm  afraid  of  you!  You're  a  rustic,  a 
bear,  a  monster. 

Smirnov.  Come  on!  I  allow  no  one  to 
insult  me,  not  even  such  a  trifling  thing  as  a 
woman. 

Mme.  Popova  {forcing  her  voice  to  cry 
louder  than  he  does).     Bear!  bear!  bear! 

Smirnov.  Yes,  it  is  time  to  put  aside  the^ 
foolish  notion  that  only  men  are  responsible 
for  insults!  You  want  equality  of  the  sexes. 
Well,  I  want  it  too.  Come  on,  Madame, 
and  we'll — 

Mme.  Popova      A  duel?     All  right! 


n 


26  A  BEAR 

Smirnov.      And  at  once! 

Mme,  I^opova.  This  very  minute!  My 
husband  left  some  revolvers.  I'll  go  and  get 
them.  (^She  starts  toward  the  door^  but  comes 
back  at  once).  Oh!  how  I'd  enjoy  lodging  a 
ball  in  that  brazen  forehead  of  yours.   (Exity 

Smirnov.  I'll  bleed  her  like  a  pullet! 
I'm  neither  a  boy  nor  a  sentimental  fool. 
There's  no  weaker  sex  for  me! 

LouKA.  May  all  the  saints  of  Heaven 
help  us!  {He  falls  on  his  knees  before  Smir- 
nov). Barine,  sir,  have  pity  on  a  poor  old 
man!  Go  away!  You  frightened  me  so 
that  all  my  bones  are  trembling  still,  and 
now  you  expect  me  to  look  on  quietly  while 
you  fight  a  duel  with  my  mistress! 

Smirnov  {without  hearing  him).  A  duel! 
There's  your  equality  of  sexes,  emancipation 
of  women!  No  more  privileges!  I'm 
establishing  a  principle  when  I  shoot  at  her. 
But  what  a  woman!  [He  imitates  her).  *'Oh, 
how  I'd  enjoy  lodging  a  ball  in  that  brazen 
forehead!"  What  a  woman!  Fler  cheeks 
turned  red — red  as  roses!  And  her  eyes  are 
regular  carbuncles!  Well,  I've  abandoned 
twelve    women,   nine    have    left    me,  but   I 


ANTON  TCHEKHOV  zi 

never  saw  one  like  that! 

LouKA.  Barine,  little  Father,  go  away. 
I  will  say  prayers  for  you  all  my  life. 

Smirnov.  That's  a  woman  for  you!  I 
can  understand  a  woman  like  that!  That's 
the  genuine  article!  No  grimaces,  no  soft- 
ness, fire,  powder,  a  regular  fury!  It's  really 
a  shame  to  kill  her! 

LouKA  {weeps).  Barine,  little  Father,  go 
away,  please;  go  away. 

Smirnov.  I  like  her,  decidedly!  Yes,  in 
spite  of  her  dimples,  I  like  her!  T  am  even 
ready  to  release  her  from  her  husband's 
debt!     She's  an  astonishing  woman! 

SCENE  X. 
The  same,  then  Madame  Popova. 

{Mme.  Popova  enters^  a  revolver  in  each  hand). 

Mme.  Popova.  Here  are  the  weapons, 
but,  before  we  fight,  you  must  show  me  how 
to  fire.     I  never  used  a  revolver  in  my  life 

LouKA.  May  all  the  saints  in  Heaven 
save  us!  Fll  call  the  gardener  and  the  coach- 
man. Lord!  Lord!  whv  have  you  sent  us 
this  pest?     {Exit). 

Smirnov  {examines  the  weapons).  There 
are  several  sorts  of  pistols,  Madame.    T  here 


28  A  BEAR 

are  Mortimer  pistols  with  caps,  manufac- 
tured especially  for  duels.  These  are  Smith 
&  Wesson  revolvers  with  all  the  modern 
improvements  —  excellent  pistols!  They 
must  have  cost  at  least  ninety  roubles  a 
pair!  Now,  see  here!  You  must  hold  the 
revolver  like  this.  (^Aside).  Those  eyes, 
those  eyes!     The  woman's  dangerous! 

Mme.  Popova  {takes  the  pistol).  Like  this? 

Smirnov.  Yes,  like  that.  Then  you 
raise  the  hammer.  You  take  aim — throw 
your  head  back  a  little.  Straighten  out  your 
arm — like  that!  Then  press  this  thing  here 
with  that  finger,  and  that's  all.  But  the 
principal  thing  is  to  keep  your  head  cool  and 
take  aim  deliberately.  Try  not  to  let  your 
hand  tremble. 

Mme.  Popova.  Don't  be  afraid.  A  room 
isn't  a  good  place  to  fight  a  duel  in.  Let's 
go  to  the  garden! 

Smirnov.  Very  well.  Only  I  must  warn 
you  that  I  shall  fire  into  the  air. 

Mme.  Popova.     What  an  idea!     Why? 

Smirnov.  Because — because.  Well,  it's 
my  own  business! 

Mme.  Popova.     You're  afraid?  Yes,  you 


ANTON  TCHEKHOV  29 

are!  Ha!  ha!  ha!  No»  sir,  don't  try  to  get 
out  of  it,  you  shall  follow  me  to  the  gar- 
den! I  can't  rest  till  I've  put  a  hole  in  your 
forehead — that  detestable  forehead!  You're 
afraid! 

Smirnov.     Yes,  I'm  afraid! 

Mme.  Popova.  That's  not  true.  Why 
don't  you  want  to  fight  any  longer? 

Smirnov.     Because — because  I  like  you! 

Mme.  Popova  {with  a  malicious  laugh). 
He  likes  me!  He  has  the  audacity  to  tell 
me  he  likes  me!  {She  points  at  the  door). 
My  compliments. 

[Smirnov  lays  the  pistol  on  the  table  without 
a  word^  takes  his  hat  and  goes;  he  stops  half 
a  minute  before  the  door;  they  look  at  each 
other^  then  Smirnov  comes  slowly  back  to  the 
front  of  the  stage). 

Smirnov.  You're  still  angry?  So  airi  I. 
I'm  furious!  But,  you  see — you  see — how 
shall  I  say  it?  You  see,  this  whole  busi- 
ness— [he  shouts)  Well,  how  can  I  help  it 
if  I  like  you?  [He  seizes  a  chair  by  the  back; 
it  cracks  and  breaks  in  /w^).,.  Why  do  people 
have  such  fragile  furniture?  J  like  you!  Do 
you    understand   me?      I — I'm — almost   in 


30  A  BEAR 

love  with  you! 

Mme.  Popova.  Don't  come  near  me,  I 
hate  you! 

Smirnov.  My  Lord,  what  a  woman! 
Nine  women  have  left  me,  I  have  abandoned 
twelve,  but  I  never  saw  one  like  her!  I'm 
lost;   I've  bit  the  bait  like  a  mouse! 

Mme.  Popova.  Don't  come  near  me  or 
I'll  fire! 

Smirnov.  Fire!  You  could  never  un- 
derstand what  pleasure  it  would  give  me  to 
die  under  your  eyes — to  die  from  the  ball 
that  little  velvet  hand  hurled  at  me.  I'm 
going  mad!  Think  and  decide  in  a  hurry, 
for  if  I  leave  here,  we'll  never  see  each  other 
again!  Make  your  decision.  I'm  a  gentle- 
man; I  have  ten  thousand  roubles  a  year; 
I'm  a  first-rate  shot;  I  can  hit  a  copeck  in 
the  air;  I  have  some  fine  horses!  Will  you 
be  my  wife? 

Mme.  Popova  (^brandishing  her  revolver 
indignantly).   We're  going  to  fight!   Come  on! 

Smirnov.  I'm  stark  mad!  I  can't  keep 
hold  of  my  senses.  (//«?  cries).  Hello! 
someone,  bring  me  some  water? 

Mme.  Popova  {cries).  Come  on,  come  on! 


ANTON  TCHKKHOV  31 

Smirnov.  I'm  crazy.  I'm  in  love  like  a 
milksop,  like  an  idiot!  ( He  seizes  Mme. 
Popovas  hand.  She  cries  out  with  pain).  I 
love  you!  (He  falls  on  his  knees).  I  love 
you  as  I  never  loved  anybody  else!  I  have 
abandoned  twelve  women,  nine  have  left 
me — and  I  never  loved  one  ot  them  as  I 
love  you!  You  see,  I'm  a  hopeless  case! 
I'm  on  my  knees  before  you  like  an  imbe- 
cile, and  I'm  offering  you  my  heart;  it's 
shameful,  it's  ridiculous!  I  haven't  loved 
anybody  for  five  years.  I  swore  I  never 
would  begin  again,  and  here  I  am  caught  like 
a  young  romantic!  I  offer  you  my  hand; 
will  you  have  it  or  not?  You  won't?  Very 
well!  {He  rises  and  goes  quickly  toward  the 
door). 

Mme.  Popova.     Wait! 

Smirnov  (stops).     Well? 

Mme.  Popova.  No,  go  on.  No,  wait. 
Go  on;  go  away!  No,  no.  stop!  Oh!  if  you 
knew  how  furious  ^I  am,  how  furious! 
{She  throws  the  revolver  on  the  table).  That 
thing  bruised  my  fingers.  {In  her  anger  she 
tears  a  handkerchief).  What  are  you  doing 
stuck  there  like  a  tree?     Go  away,  I  tell  you! 


32  A  BEAR 

Smirnov.     Good-bye! 

Mme.  Popova.  Yes,  yes,  go!  [She  cries). 
Where  are  you  going?  Wait!  Go  on,  go 
on.  Oh,  how  angry  1  am!  Don't  come 
near  me,  don't  come  near  me! 

Smirnov  {comes  very  near  her).  And  what 
about  me?  I'Jl  never  forgive  myself!  I've 
hauled  myself  around  on  my  knees  till  I've 
caught  cold  in  my  bones.  [Roughly).  I  love 
you!  and  I  swear  to  you  I'd  be  glad  to  get 
out  of  this  pickle!  I  must  pay  the  interest 
on  my  mortgage  tomorrow,  the  harvest  has 
begun,  and  here  you  are  in  my  way!  [He 
seizes  her  by  the  waist).  I'll  never  forgive 
myself. 

Mme.  Popova.  Don't  come  near  me, 
don't  touch  me!  I  detest  you!  I  hate  you! 
Bring  your  pistol  and  come  on! 

{He  kisses  her;  she  resists  very  feebly). 
SCENE  XI. 

(The  same,  then  Louka,  an  axe  in  his  hand;  the  gar- 
dener with  a  rake;  the  coachman  with  a  fork,  and  some 
peasants  armed  with  clubs). 

LouKA  {perceiving  the  attitude  of  the 
couple).  May  all  the  saints  of  Heaven  help 
us!  {A  pause). 

Mme.  Popova  [drops  her  eyes)  Louka, 
tell  the  coachman  not  to  give  T'obie  any  oats 
at  all  today. 


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